Packet Boat - Incsight Series 03
by eisceire
Summary: Helen hasn't shared bedsport with Bob since she got scared about having herokids. It's a famine Bob can't stand so he'll find release however he can. Only the worst can come out of a mission-team made of Bob and Violet getting close and intimate All Inc Fic Tales read solo but add to a big pic, It is: Incsight on early legit days & Shadows on later woes & Twostep on final Mr Parr.


_**Umkay - nobody rant about this being in bad taste. It's a known issue - how some poppas react when androgynous daughters start budding and especially if mommas aren't welcoming in bed. Exploring subjects doesn't equal approving.**_

CRASH! Violet leaps frantically to the side as Mr Incredible smashes into the ground, just where she has been standing. He has been blown back and battered off his feet. He has been taken by surprise, when his tactics have blown back in his face. How he wishes Violet wasn't here; then he wouldn't be worrying about her or how he must look to her right now.

The forces he's facing are to fierce for him to contend with: waves and wife. Some bright spark, with a soft spot for resurgent superpowers, had suggested calling in Mr Incredible to rescue a ship that the regular rescue powers couldn't reach; for the force of the storm that had savaged the ship to start with. Helen had said he'd better take Violet along; as he spent plenty of time bonding with his boy but precious little with his girl. All his arguments got washed away: Violet couldn't get into trouble, like she had in their latest fights, as this wasn't a fight … just a ship named the Col Flynn. All round; it would be good for pop and poppet to do a disaster together.

Disaster is what it is! How can this wretched, wreck of a rustbucket ship have made it all the way from Galway Bay; to finally founder in the face of the storm, when within eyesight of port? Mr Incredible hasn't any idea what to do next; the Col Flynn is falling apart in front of their eyes and the cranehook and chain he had cast out to fish the ship in had caught ahold of the vessel well enough but, when he had tried to reel it in, all he'd caught was a piece rusted rail. Now he looks the Col Flynn over and finds it's a miracle it's intact at all; there isn't a chance at all that he'll find a solid spot to snag and snare the ship in.

If the ship is all he has to worry about it can go to the bottom of the briny and let the mariners fret over what to do with it, when the storm is over. It isn't so simple as that though, it never is, not only is the cargo unchancy but there is a crew and passengers in there somewhere. It all has to come ashore: people will die if they land in the water and the seacreatures will die if the cargo lands in the water.

They are some sorry bunch of seafarers on this boat: as they've all hidden themselves away; somewhere deep inside of the Col Flynn, for fear of being washed or windblown to death. The only thing, at all, they're doing to help themselves is to send out a steady stream of desperate radio messages. They are going to be no help at all in getting the Col Flynn to shore. It is all down to the heroes, down to them; no … down to him. Violet is only a deadweight, a spectator to the ship's fate; so it seems from the first words out of her mouth.

« Nope! Can't put that in a bubble from here; sea's too rough. »

But then

« Need to be aboard. I think you'll have to pitch me. »

Mr Incredible baulks; he can't believe his daughter can, so calmly, come up with a plan like that. He can think of a hundred things that can go wrong and end badly for her … but he also can't think of any other course of action; so he makes the moves. Violet curls over into a ball and he lifts her over his head; to hurl her over the heaving waves, like a goalie sending a soccer ball into play. Violet thumps down onto the deck, in a bruising touchdown; she didn't dare englobe herself for fear of bouncing straight off of the ship. It was a sore call but a sure call; as she is secure on the ship.

Going to the rail Violet waves over the waves to Mr Incredible on land; then waits for him to land the hook on the rail. That is the instant when she'll bolt the boat together with her bubble; then let her pop haul them all in, with no trouble. There is only one trouble, which is the bubble: the instant it englobes the boat it shears the steel of the hook and chain, which Mr Incredible has already put under strain.

Away on shore Mr Incredible watches, aghast, as the chain goes whipping away; while the hook flys true and sure to smash Violet to the floor. The heavy weight of the hook has caught her dead on the temple and dropped her to the deck; dazed into helplessness. He can tell she's entirely out of it, by the way her bubble abruptly vanishes — which is the worst; as it lets the whiplashing chain cleave through the radio mast. Violet is unconscious and unable to save herself as the deadly length of metal topples directly down onto her.

Mr Incredible only has an instant in which to act and makes the leap of his life, from shore to ship, to save Violet's life. Even in midair his eyes are locked to the limp figure lying on deck: he sees Violet becoming conscious and aware — but she can't yet get her body to obey her; so it is still up to him to save her. He lands badly and barely in time; but he is aboard ship and under the mast and able to shoulder it aside.

The brief time and bad landing haven't helped him to brace himself, especially when he hasn't yet got his footing or his sealegs; he has spurred the mast away but, in the impact, he has been sent sprawling. Bob Parr finds himself lying flat on top of Violet Parr and flattening her; crushing her breasts and body under him. He's all too aware of the youthful, fit, firm and female form beneath him; her supersuit snugs to a second skin and his hands cradle the contours of her body. In an almost autonomic action, he slides his hand along her side, to slip over her hip and finds no line of linen or lace; it seems that all his daughter has beneath her suit is herself in the skin. How she has grown up, and grown into mischief too … the little imp grins up at him and grinds herself against him; enjoying teasing her pop: « Later Dad; I'm kinda busy now. »

The shock, of a split second of groin to groin impact, impacts on his brain; he shoves himself up with enough superstrength to send him half the length of the deck. He curses inside of his head: what is he thinking - what is he wanting? That is his own daughter! Damn! He hasn't had a sip of sex since Syndrome snatched Jack-Jack. Okay; he doesn't like, but he can live with, Helen not wanting to have any more kids; now that the risks have become so very real. Not to have any loving at all is plain inhuman however … and all Helen will say is that they're superhuman; so she won't trust to any safeguards, except a blanket bedroom ban.

Violet is up, if still a little unsteady on her feet, and active in hunting down the hook that had felled her. How could he have become so sex starved as to let his body betray him like that? This is his little girl; who has a lot of growing to do before he will let any boy within a mile of her body. So why is he behaving worse than any rapist would? He'd sooner cut off his rod than cause harm to her.

Better get back to business and put all that bad business out of his mind. Violet has been sharp enough not bother him, while he got his wits back, but she hasn't been idle either: she has tied down the chain end; so it will not slip off the deck and be lost to them. When Mr Incredible puts himself into the plot, he is soon hauling all of the chain onto deck then holding chain against hook; letting Violet englobe them in a powerglobe, that she shrinks down to the size of fist, so all the force, fire and fury of it focuses inward … to fuse the two items back together.

Their idea is incredibly simple: to reverse the plan of earlier; with Mr Incredible flinging the hook to shore this time and then reeling in the line, until ship strikes shore. It goes well enough to begin with; with the hook and chain hooping around a bollard at portside and Mr Incredible hand over handing the Col Flynn landward. They've barely made headway of a few links in the chain, however, before he has to break off; as the ship has begun to break up … again. This is as difficult and impossible as towing an eggshell.

Violet takes a turn at pitching a plan, which is not much more than putting a ship in a bottle: she thinks she can tackle the task of englobing the Col Flynn along with, unfortunately and unavoidably, the underlying ocean. So long as she keeps the globe exactly to the bow and stern of the ship, it will act like the spindle in a wheel and Mr Incredible can make like one of those circus acts that walk a ball along with their feet. He is going to have to keep a tight hold of her too, though, because she will have to be on the outside top with him; if she is going to keep the sphere the to the exact, critical dimensions. Violet certainly will not have any energy or concentration to spare for keeping her own footing; her pop is going to have to be her anchor.

They soon have it set: Violet has the Col Flynn and all too much seawater within a bubble; the ship is sideways on to the shore, so it can work as the hub to their wheel. The hero duo are on top: with Mr Incredible facing towards the shore and Violet clasped to his chest; where she can easily look to right and left, to bow and stern — giving her the commanding heights and control that she needs.

Well, the weather isn't going to be such a worry — Mr Incredible thinks. Violet has excelled herself and coated them up like ducks, with her powers, so the wind and rain simply slicks off of them; to be sure they can still be gusted off from their perch but that is his part of the task … the physical, visible part. Moving the bubble along is also his part of the task and he gets going at it, as he hopes this final plan will bear fruit. It actually isn't as hard as he'd expected it would be; to wheel along this weighty vessel of water, with a vessel in it … it's as near as can be frictionless, so his chief chore is to keep his speed steady and smooth. This quarter mile trip won't be so bad.

All of which leaves him overmuch freedom to focus on his surroundings; mainly the girl who is surrounding him. Finding he needs his arms for balance; he has given over the job of holding Violet fast. It is been left to Violet herself; to keep her body secure against his and now she is hugging him so very tight that it is pure distracting. Violet has her legs wrapped around his waist and spread wide by the bulk of him, while her arms run under his armpits to clasp together over his shoulder blades. Her split legs are locked so tightly to his back that, every time he breathes out, his belly brushes the space between her legs. At chest height they may as well be sharing the same set of lungs, as he or she breathes in, Bob can feel her young breasts settle and reshape themselves against his ribs. Tensed by the chill, the stress and the storm her nipples stand out stiffly and press hard against him.

They're doomed, done for and dead, Mr Incredible suddenly sees, as a titan wave tumbles over them; and he sees he's dead in the water, by his being too distracted by his daughter. He needs to know how far they have come, away from the oil slick that marks their starting point, and so he chances a glance backwards He is soon noticing how little of a wake it is that they are leaving. It is almost as if the bubble isn't pushing through the water at all.

Physics! Who can understand it? Not him; he is no Einstein or Hawkins. What he is, is a dad with an eye and some insight; suspicion pricks his mind as he thinks: « Well, hell … we're not in the water at all! Violet! You mule! Why've you always got to go and give two hundred percent and kill yourself? We don't need a martyr. » Sighing, he gets the ball rolling again and does his best not to obsess over the math that will tell him how much tonnage his daughter will gravitate; for the best part of a quarter mile.

Mr Incredible is intensely aware of his environment now, he soon notices how the Col Flynn is still falling apart, even under the conditions they've created. The only good of it is that every part that falls off, and into the ocean, is only falling into that part of ocean contained in Violet's bubble. It isn't long before he registers the toll this is taking on Violet: at every breakage and shift in balance her already harsh breathing catches and a tremor runs through her slight frame. He begins to barrel the bubble over the water at an ever faster speed until Violet speaks.

« I think you're breaking the speed limit dad. Take it easy, huh, we're not in a race. »

« But you … the effort … need this over soon … let you rest. »

Bob is barely coherent, in his concern, but it's a misplaced fear; as Violet knows what she needs.

« I Don't need rest; I need focus. You're too fast for me to keep up. Put the brake on dad; 'kay! »

Reluctantly Mr Incredible replies and then complies.

« Alright; you get to be the skipper here, Violet. »

They've covered about half the distance, under these conditions, when everything worsens with a boom. One of the barrels of chemical cargo has finally broken free; then gone on to impact and rupture into the englobed ocean, like a miniature Krakatoa. Violet grunts in pain, her body spasms and her grip on her dad tightens into a death grip; but the bubble doesn't so much as flex under the forces erupting inside it. The only reason Mr Incredible isn't piling on all speed for the shore right now; is that he recalls the caution about the concentration his daughter needs,

It takes all of his nerve, to hold on course and keep their progress to a steady rate, but his long experience as a hero kicks in. He holds to discipline; even as the holds of the ship crumple and collapse, from the effects of that first bombard. An escalating cascade and tirade of explosions spills out into the sealed-in sea. Somehow; his dot of a daughter summons up the strength to withstand every single shock and Violet keeps the globe inviolate. The concern has become that the contents of the globe have become a poisoned cauldron; not one drop of which can be let back into the ordinary ocean. Anxiously Mr Incredible asks if there are any risks of leaks.

« Stake me, Dad; if I lock something away … it stays locked. Even if the devil comes knocking! »

He has to believe in his daughter and do as she has asked of him; all of this indirect force is a new field to the heavy-fisted Mr Incredible. What he is all too familiar with, and aware of is … the damage a hero in the field can take. The heavy working of his daughter's lungs and her ragged breathing, hard against his chest, reverberate through his body. He sees her skin lose all tone; turn cold, goosepimpled and clammy - even as her lips shade into blue. Her eyes are pinpoint pupils in an arctic expanse of white and, whatever she is seeing, is a thousand miles away. Violet's body bucks and buckles, at every blast from below them; as if she is being beaten to a pulp by an abusive giant.

Mr Incredible feels as if the weight of the world is lifting from his shoulders, as he sees the port walls close around them; but this is not the end … not quite, yet so. The bubble first has to be steered into a dry dock, where he drops Violet to the cobbles and she drops to her knees; head drooping down, body slumping and barely braced up by her hands … but the bubble does not so much as shiver, as Mr Incredible speeds to slam the dock doors shut. It is only then that Violet allows her bubble to drain into the dock; not vanishing it in a snap but steadily allowing the water to seep out safely, until everything is settled securely. It's a level of control Mr Incredible doesn't think possible and doesn't like to see, because of the cost to Violet … who has blood drooling from her mouth, even as she bleeds from nose, ears and eyes.

Whatever about that, he is a hero and has to take care of the task in hand before any personal concerns. Mr Incredible rips the door off of a nearby warehouse and makes of it an improvised gangplank. The, so far unseen, seafarers of the Col Flynn come crowding out; to shamble down the makeshift walkway. They take time to thank and to praise him, before being whisked away by medicos; even as a media crew materialises to take shots of the ending of the drama. It isn't at all the end for Mr Incredible though, just as soon as the rescue circus has cleared the scene, he is heading for where Violet was last seen.

She is right where he left her, from when they landed at the dock, only she is flat on the ground and semiconscious. Her soaking supersuit clings to her clammy body — so closely she may as well not be wearing anything at all; while her urgent breathing draws his attention back to her breasts and arouses all of his male urges … especially so, as the suit is skintight even down to the division between her legs.

Mr Incredible is appalled at himself but what can he do? He has been bereft of all female comforts for far to long; so his eyes, his urges and even his hands stir where they will. A quick one and two in an alley isn't for him; for a superhuman only his own kind will do, as ordinary folks just break … which is why his newly nubile daughter might even be the girl for him.

He just won't have it; there has to be some other way; Syndrome can't have killed off all of the old superfemmes with his omnidroids. Syndrome … Mirage! She is still on the loose; not only did she escape capture she also evaded being a criminal: the only crimes she can be accused of were done on that independent island, where nobody has jurisdiction. For all of that, it is in the public interest that he track her down; close all the boxes on the case. He breathes her name aloud.

« Mirage; you're mine! »

« Whassat dad? »

« I'm going to hunt down Mirage; we don't want any loose ends left dangling. »

« Yeh; you've gotta take care of your loose end, dad. »

Violet's gaze spells out, very clearly, what loose end she means; then she falls off the end of the earth for a while.

CODA

Bob and Violet had been struggling away at rescuing the vessel Col Flynn, from first light to early noon. For all that, it had turned into a one day job and a return home in the early evening. All of that was courtesy of a chummy helicrew; who even put some handy advice Mr Incredible's way.

« Powers aside, guess you guys are human; seen the state of your girl times enough. When you get down to the wire on a job, if you're any good, you'll burn yourself out to win through and take the fall afterwards. Get her home; give her rest and fluids; she'll be grand … be sure and tell her she's made an army of fans with us. »

Good to hear and going to be even better to see, on the news that is coming up, as Helen rustles up a couchside feed for her hero husband. Violet is excused eats; on account of being spark out on the sofa. It is just as well: as it soon becomes clear the News Team were only working at shoreside and with an agenda.

All of the shots are of Mr Incredible in action: swinging his grapple, slamming the dock doors, rescuing the people and getting the praise. There are fillers on the environmental damage that was averted, on the feat of getting the boat inshore intact and on his lovely young assistant. That last mainly being, barely decent snaps, of Violet at the dockside; in her saturated, skinhugging and extraordinarily revealing supersuit. — just how revealing is shown by the closing shot of the sidebar. It is as if every viewer has been gifted with X-Ray Vision.

The News Team must have given Violet a yell, to get her attention. Violet is on her knees, braced on her hands, with her head up and looking towards the camera, The angle of the shot manages to perfectly outline the shape of her breasts, even to nipples and aureola; to reveal the line of her ribs and the underswell of her bosom; to capture the hard, flat, muscles of her stomach; to enhance the curve and crescent of her waist and hips; to trace the sweet vee that leads from hips to groin and then to light on and highlight the exact shape of her bare crotch, under the damply moulded fabric.

Bob, Dash and even Helen blush at the display and simply don't know where to look or what to say. The report has ended and closed on what has clearly been decided on as the defining image: Mr Incredible, with legs braced and the wind whipping about him; while he whirls the crane hook over his head, like a lariat. Violet has been demoted to laddish bedroom material and there's no easy response to that. It is Dash who saves the day.

« She's a spook! See her eyes! I've got a scary sister. »

He is right: at a casual glance all you get is some cheesecake exposure but, take a moment of reflection, then you'll discover a silver, laser stare that is locked on some hell only she can see.

« Well, hunk of mine, seems like our girl went and played the hero this time; you don't get to look like that from painting by numbers. So sit back and give us a blow by blow rehash. »

« Those media jerks! Violet just about burst her heart keeping everything together and this trash is their story. I'll just see about that; see what they have to say when they hear from me. »

« Hush! Keep your voice down, dear. I'd worry more about what we're going to say to Vi. »

A brittle, bright voice rings out then; from the sofa where Violet was thought to be passed out.

« Don't worry about anything; I've been awake long enough to catch the news with you. Our Dad is A Hero; again … well done dad! »


End file.
